Tiredness can kill...

"Any sense of humour you usually have will instantly perish the moment you realise you're living on 2 hours sleep you managed to snatch at some ungodly hour when you passed out fully-clothed on your bed, wrapped in the cosy embrace of half a litre of Jack Daniels..." - Matt Clemenson, 20/10/2012

So yeah, last night me and my flatmate Sheldon stayed in and were trying to watch a pretty intense political thriller when a couple of girls from the flat above paid us a visit. Boy can they drink. Suffice to say after a pretty eventful and embarrassing game of "I have never", a couple of interesting videos watched on YouTube (which were much, much funnier when we were drunk than when we watched them back sober and just though, WTF? ), and a weird incident involving a drunk Norwegian and a large medicine ball, no-one was in a particularly fit state to go for a jog or anything this morning. Getting into bed at 5 was heavenly - waking up at 7 to a world spinning at about 40 miles per hour was not. Not in the slightest. I mean, me and Sheldon had honestly been determined to have a quiet one last night. I guess fate had a different plan - God really does work in mysterious ways.

Anyways, around 2 o'clock in the afternoon, with the hangover still heavy on my head, I remembered I had offered to take part in a photo-shoot for a friend of mine on the beach that day. Uh-oh. I won't go into too many details, but the shoot involved me sitting in a freezing cold rock pool fully clothed, going for a nice little stroll through the also freezing cold sea (still fully clothed here), and then walking back through an empty Falmouth hungry and absolutely cream-crackered.  My lack of sleep essentially meant I was a walking zombie the entire day, and inevitably at about 8 o'clock this evening I gave in and had a 2 and a half hour nap - I don't think my sleeping pattern's gonna recover from that mental night in for a while.

Now readers, don't get me wrong, I had a great time. I just can't see how there are people in this world who make their living this way. I realise a lot of the people who do so are in fact much better looking than me, but still, it's not exactly rewarding. If anything it's sort of degrading. You're not really a person whilst you're being photographed, more of a plaything for the people co-ordinating the shoot. I just don't really get why people would be attracted to that way of life (modelling that is, not photography - which I actually think is a really cool way that humanity has created to express itself). If anyone has any ideas why there are people out there determined to make their living basically pouting at a camera, or if I'm missing the point entirely, please let me know.

I don't mean to sound ignorant, I'm just trying to gain a better understanding.

Matt out.

A little discussion on morality...

I'm pretty sure I'm just like anyone else when I say that I try to be a good person. Don't get me wrong, I'm no saint, but I think I succeed in not being an absolute dick about 75% of the time. I'm not going around kicking kittens or taking sweets from small children, sadly nor am I handing out donations to the homeless or working at the local soup kitchen.

One thing I tend to get a little bit of stick about (in some cases), is my chivalrous streak. It's about a mile wide and completely irrational, but for some reason it just kicks in immediately whenever I'm around a woman for more than a second. Perhaps it comes from being obsessed with the tales of King Arthur and the knights of the round table when I was a youngster, but I believe whole-heartedly that a lady should be treated specially - I'll hold doors open for her, pay for meals and generally treat her with a level of respect I should probably show everyone.

Label me a misogynist if you want, tell me I'm sexist and being politically incorrect - I don't care, I'm going to treat women the way I feel they should be treated. What really annoys me is when girls I'm trying to treat the way I feel she should be treated turn around and tell me I'm being condescending or patronising. I'm honestly not. I just want you to know that chivalry isn't dead. Yes I'm holding the door open for you, but that doesn't mean I don't respect you, if anything it means the opposite. I guess it's just something that gets to me a little bit - I don't like feeling punished for trying to be a good person.

I guess it's just that now, here at uni, I'm realising a lot of people don't share that particular view. I've lost count of the times I've seen guys actually push past girls to get to wherever they need to be, and that's made me wonder: is the world just getting inherently immoral? I mean, take a look at the news whenever you next get the chance, it's starting to really seem as though there are no more good guys anymore. Politicians lie, churchmen lie, even Policemen lie, as shown by the recent Hillsborough revelations. I guess I'm just starting to worry that my parents are right whenever they say "things ain't like they used to be".

Hopefully the world will prove me wrong.

Matt out.

"Boy you was Battle Born..."

Seeing as I'm planning to use this quirky little blog-zone as a platform for my writing, I thought I'd kick things off with a little post on something that means a lot to me, as I'm sure it does most people, my taste in music.

Now anyone who knows me will tell you I'm something of a Killers fan-boy, and they would be right. I can't think of any other band whose entire back-catalogue could be used as the soundtrack to the first 18 years of my time here on this weird little planet. As luck would have it, all of their album releases have coincided with significant milestones in my life. Hot Fuss was released just as I was starting secondary school, Sam's Town was around the time I was seriously getting into drama (and thus beginning the long and agonising process from shy, chubby geek to the arrogant loud-mouth I am today); Day & Age came out as I was entering into my first serious relationship (and was actually the first present I ever gave her) and now the Nevada-based quartet have released Battle Born a week after I've moved 400 miles to a university where I know 2 people out of 5,000.

Obviously, my emotional outline as a person has been at least in part molded by the sense of romanticism and nostalgia that permeates Brandon Flowers' lyrics, and the other day I found myself wondering if I were more into something like mindless drum & bass I'd be anywhere near the guy I am. I doubt it. For me, a song has to have some kind of emotional resonance with you that will stay with you for years, so that even if you were to hear that song in twenty years' time, that flood of emotion is just as strong as the day you first identified with it. I don't know, maybe I'm a sentimentalist, I just like to think that once I've decided I like a song, that song will mean something special and unique to me and me alone.

For example, a while back I was going through a pretty rough patch and I discovered Frank Turner. Now, if you haven't heard of him, go and check out his ENTIRE back-catalogue now - the man's a lyrical genius. One phrase in particular stuck with me throughout the next few months:

"Yeah life is about love, last minutes and lost evenings. 

About fire in our bellies and about furtive little feelings,

And the aching amplitudes that set our needles all a-flickering,

And they help us with remembering, that the only thing that's left to do is live." 

Now I'm sure he'll never see it, but I thought I should write it down anyway - those 4 lines struck me more than any had before in my life, so thanks Frank, it might not be all that significant, but after hearing those words my perspective on life changed a little bit, and that's down to you.

If you're wondering just what affect they had, you're going to be a little disappointed. It's not really something I can explain too much, suffice to say I realised I'd been letting one or two things hold me back from living the life I wanted to, and after hearing this I actively took steps to change that - for the most part I succeeded, but that's a story for another day.

I'm also a massive fan of John Mayer, the Wombats, Bowie, The Clash etc, but for raw emotionality it's gonna have to be The Killers or Frank for me.

Matt out.

Numero Uno.

So today, bored out of my mind, I have decided to take the plunge and start a blog. I'm probably not gonna publicise it very well, and I doubt anyone out there who actually knows me will ever read it - but heck, it's gotta be more entertaining than sitting at your desk refreshing Facebook every two minutes vainly hoping one of your friends will come online and rescue you from the mundane boredom that is your Thursday afternoon. I have it on good authority that adding a blog to your CV is a good idea if you're interested in a career in the media, as it gives potential employers something to gauge your suitability on. Now I know it's going to be many years before I'm doing anything as daunting as looking for a career path, but I figure I might as well start now, the next couple of years' worth of blogging can be a warm-up.